The Snowstorm

I watch the dancers whirling by,
watch their shining faces.
The silver lace at cuff and hem,
swirling through the paces.

I watch them settle at the end.
Coolly take their places.
Blending, each into the other
leaving now no traces
of the flurry that has brought them
to their settled places.

Blending, each into the other
to settle in the night.
Listen as the music whispers,
faces reflecting light.

Again, the wind touches my hair,
their music surging bright.
Fresh dancers flash into the air,
in lace and silver flight.
I watch as, on and on, the dance
continues through the night.